


Regretable

by Nary



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Bitterness, Jealousy, M/M, Pre-Canon, Rough Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-07
Updated: 2011-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-19 02:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last person the Master of Coin expected to see at the ceremony where he accepted his new office was Edmure Tully.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regretable

The last person the Master of Coin expected to see at the ceremony where he accepted his new office was Edmure Tully, standing beside Lysa and her husband, and looking awkward in his court finery. They hadn't spoken or even laid eyes on each other in years, since Petyr had left Riverrun in disgrace. Edmure had grown broader through the shoulders, but not tall enough that he towered over his boyhood playmate, and his beard made him look older than his years. His blue eyes met Petyr's, but slid away, uncomfortable. Petyr smiled to himself as he waited through the seemingly-interminable ceremony - Edmure should be uncomfortable, for what he'd done.

Petyr send him a message inviting him to join him for dinner that very evening. He half-expected Edmure would refuse, but he turned up at the appointed time. They made polite small-talk through the meal, and Petyr kept the wine flowing freely, which gradually loosened Edmure's tongue.

"Is it true what they say?" he asked at last.

"Is what true?" Petyr replied, feigning ignorance. "What who says?"

Edmure's cheeks flushed angrily beneath his auburn beard. "That you had both of my sisters."

Petyr chose his answer with care. "Perhaps you should ask Cat and Lysa that." It had the desired effect - Edmure was out of his chair and had Petyr's tunic balled in his fists before he could say anything more inflammatory.

"Why did you do it?" Edmure snarled, hoisting Petyr bodily out of his chair. He might not have been especially tall, but he was well-muscled, and had no difficulty heaving the smaller man about. "Why did you have to be such a fool?"

"It's touching to know you've missed me all these years, Edmure," Petyr said, as smoothly as he was able under the circumstances. He knew he was treading dangerous ground here, and yet he couldn't stop himself.

"Fuck you," spat Edmure, forcing him back against the wall.

Petyr let his leg slide between Edmure's thighs. "It seems as though you'd like that," he replied, finding him already half-hard. "Is that it, Edmure? Are you jealous of your dear sisters?" He ran his fingers through that thick rust-red hair, and watched Edmure flinch at the touch. But he didn't pull away. "You know," Petyr continued, stroking Edmure's cock over his breeches, "if you wanted it so badly, you could have crawled into my bed at night. That's what Cat and Lysa both did..."

Edmure stopped his mouth with a rough kiss. His hands forced their way up under Petyr's tunic, running without comment over the thick-ridged scars there from Brandon Stark's blade. Petyr stepped out of his breeches, then let himself be lifted and pressed back against the rough stone wall once more, legs spread whorishly for Edmure to enter him. It hurt at first, and he bit down on Edmure's shoulder to keep from crying out, but it was well worth the pain. He derived as much satisfaction from seeing Edmure lose control, sweating and grunting against him, as he did from the act itself.

"You've changed," Edmure said afterwards, in a way that implied it wasn't for the best.

"You haven't," Petyr replied, and shut the door in his face.


End file.
